The Game of Omission
by iffulovedme
Summary: Sasori/Deidara. Spoilers. Deidara's pleased with his new partner. Still, he misses Sasori. Deidara was never good at saying goodbye. He wants a second chance.


Sasori-sama, I got a new partner today. I sort of wish you weren't dead. If nothing else, so I wouldn't have to get a new partner. Have to figure out my partner all over again. But then again, he can't be as difficult as you. Even now, I don't think I ever really figured you out. But that's okay, un, because there are some things I didn't tell you. Some things I never asked: was I a good partner, Sasori-sama?

His name is Tobi. And what can I say? He's not you, un, that's for sure. He's so inexperienced, so dopey he makes me look serious, un. I guess it's my turn. Was it like this for you? Knowing you're responsible for your partner, his life. Can I trust him to keep me safe? Can he trust me? I knew I could trust you, Sasori-sama. How did you trust me, un?

I have so many questions, un. Questions I didn't ask while you were alive because I always counted on you sticking it out until the end.

I'm not going to ask if you were happy with me. I know I didn't make you happy. Because even though we never talked about Orochimaru, I know it's not easy to get a new partner.

I was happily your servant. But I'm his Master now. He obeys me. He never argues. It's the strangest thing. Knowing I can use him, abuse him, or what have you. And he will not object. Would never dream of refusing. Strange, un, but also a heady feeling. I'm invincible. He makes me this way. Did I make you feel like that?

Was I this star struck? Probably. Did you notice? Again, probably. It's just Tobi looks at me with such awe. It makes me uncomfortable. I want to blush. Did you feel this way too, un? He watches my every movement with unnerving concentration. I feel like I can't make a mistake. Did you realize, Sasori, that you were my god? Somewhere, I know you're laughing. I miss the sound, un. But you already knew that.  
Then again, you knew most things. You could se e my fixation with Itachi, told me to stop. So I did. I started obsessing over you instead. With that, came the unbridled lust and compulsive need to be yours. Was my desire for you so transparent?

From the first time I laid eyes on you, un, I fought the desire to offer my body to you, to use at your leisure. I'd never met someone so effortlessly beautiful before. Your skin glowed as though touched by the moon's rays, your hair always perfectly, artfully tousled. I took one look at you, un, and knew I would not -could not- know true art until I discovered what color your eyes turned when you were aroused.

I tried, un, to seduce you. I wore my hair down and flipped it around, a move that's saved me many times spending the night alone. But you only coolly demanded I tie my hair up or, and I quote, "I'll cut it off myself".

I brushed against you every opportunity I could. I masturbated at night, knowing you were awake beside me,20and stage-whispered your name as I came. No matter how hard I studied or trained, I couldn't reach you. Your expression of boredom and arrogance never changed. You were untouchable.  
I remember so clearly the first time I was allowed to touch you. It was after a successful mission.  
You asked why I was smiling. I said I thought I'd done well. You asked, coldly, if I thought I deserved a reward. I shut up.

You spent the next week ignoring me. It was unbearable. So then I told you straight out: "I'm giving up on you, un. So you don't have to avoid me anymore."

Your eyes lazily flicked in my direction. "You want a reward? Fine. But just so we're clear…"

And, I'll never forget it, the way you blinked and were in the next moment gripping my wrist, breathing softly into my ear, "I'm not avoiding you."

And I'm not ashamed to admit your aggression turned me on. Evidence that made itself known to your thigh. You chuckled and I whimpered.

I lost all my clothing and you retained a shirt. I let it slide because I thought there'd be a next time.  
You fucked me. Both literally and metaphorically because there wasn't a next time. There wasn't even really an aftermath. But I don't care, un. At least not anymore. You cared about me in your own way. I understand that now.

Maybe you had a fascination with me, too.=2 0Of course yours was more discreet. And maybe yours was satisfied when you entered my body, when I groaned your name. But after you'd finished and slipped from my body, I realized that I was still obsessed. I was yours, un. I had no will of my own. I like to think that because I was so completely yours, you were maybe just a tiny bit mine.

You taught me a lot, un. Taught me everything. I owe you everything and not just because you were my master. I adored you, un. But I don't doubt I tried your nerves. You put up with me anyway. My punishment? You abused me. You used my body for your sexual pleasure. For your amusement. Will I ever get used to being the Master? Can I be the Master you were to me? More importantly, do I want to be?

Do you remember a month after I'd joined on? When I told you, un, as I was piss-drunk or maybe just drunk enough to be brazen ( or stupid), that I was going to be your best partner ever, un, and that I'd never leave you.

I guess I lied. I'm sorry, un. But I don't suppose it counts, since technically you left me. I'm not really sure why you had to leave. And I don't expect you to explain yourself to me. But I'm going to tell you this last thing. That I'm going to die for my art. The explosion, un, it's what we live for. What you died for.

You were undeniably, demandingly beautiful, un. That's why I liked you. If we'd passed each other on the streets, even if your hair wasn't so soft looking and your skin so unblemished, I would still have given you a second glance. I would have sensed a kinship. A bond of some sort. We're all branded, un, in some way. We're marked; we who walk on the darker line of life. Our purpose in life is to flirt with insanity. I'm going to miss your stony glare, your indifference and your appraisal. I was never good enough. But I'll admit that most of all, fucking hell, I'm going to miss you.


End file.
